Reefbound
by sass box
Summary: Hammersley finds itself in treacherous waters chasing a rising tide of poachers, but they find themselves in hot water when the poachers are linked to a ruthless gang who will stop at nothing to protect their catch. Interpersonal tensions are rising, pressure is increasing, and the ever-elusive mothership is lurking in the reefs. Can the Hammersley crack the ring and stay afloat?
1. Prologue

**a/n: **This is a season five AU. The prologue takes place before season five begins, but will jump to the present day - the beginning of season five - next chapter. I'll do my best to update as frequently as possible, and please don't forget to review!

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**Prologue**

**Four months earlier, Coral Sea, Forenoon Watch, 11:32**

The FFV's deck trembled beneath Charge's boots with enough force to make him take a step to steady himself and look over at 2Dads, who had reached for the rail for support. "What the hell was that?"

"Not good, Charge," 2Dads replied, leaning out over the rail, checking to see if they'd managed to hit anything that would have caused the grating shudder of the boat below them. The water was crystal clear, the kind of blue that was utterly tempting, and there was the unmistakable ridge of a reef just barely submerged. He thrust his torso out further, trying to scope how deep it was, but the boat rocked again, with yet another creak of coral on metal, and he grabbed for the railing to keep from falling out.

"Hammersley, this is Charlie 82. We seem to have grazed a reef," Charge said, an undertone of concern raising his voice just a few notches.

"Are you sure, Charge?" Mike Flynn's voice was calm as he wrapped a tan hand around the radio.

"Pretty sure, sir," Charge replied, shuddering as there was yet another grating screech, the sound like nails on a chalkboard.

"Stop both engines," Mike ordered, grabbing his binoculars with the hand not gripping the radio.

"Stop both engines," Swain repeated, pushing a button on his console, and the steady thrum of the propellers went dead.

"Charge, can you assess the damage?" Mike asked, adjusting the focus on his binoculars. This area was positively striped with reefs, but so far they had managed to avoid all of them, but the FFV was behind the Hammersley in shallower water.

"Right away sir," Charge responded, already on his way below decks. He was pretty sure there hadn't been enough force to actually breach the hull, but the boat wasn't a shining example of seaworthiness, barely more than a glorified bathtub carrying tons on tons of dismembered sea cucumbers. He checked every room and found no leaks, so he ascended to the deck.

"How bad is it?" 2Dads asked, blue eyes wide as he sat at the bow, scanning the clear water below.

"Hull's intact," Charge replied shortly, turning on his radio. "Hammersley, the hull is intact. I repeat, hull's intact. It looks like we've just scraped a reef."

Mike blew out a sigh of relief. "Good news, Charlie 82. We'll continue the tow, but I want you keeping an eye on the lower decks for any leaks, over."

"Right-y-o, boss, out." Charge joined 2Dads on the bow, and together they watched the water slide by beneath them.

**Earlier, Coral Sea, Morning Watch, 06:37**

The sea was calm under the Hammersley, the sun glinting brilliantly off the gentle swell. Her bridge crew were in various levels of alertness, hands wrapped around steaming travel mugs and binoculars, when the beep of a new radar contact drew Kate McGregor's attention, and she slid off her chair and over to the radar.

"What do you have there, X?" Mike Flynn swivelled his chair to get a better look.

"FFV bearing 145, range 10 nautical miles," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Let's check it out, then," he instructed, sitting back in his chair and reaching for his binoculars, looping them around his neck. "Have a boarding party at the ready."

"Steer 145," Kate said, plugging the coordinates into the conn. "Boarding party standby."

The FFV was small, sitting low in the water with a few crew members visible, stepping over coils of cable and piles of equipment as they moved around the deck. Mike watched them through his binoculars as Charge kept tabs on them through the EOD.

He could see a flurry of movement as the roar of the RHIB's engines signalled the navy's approach, and the panicked gestures of the fishermen to each other as they hauled a dripping man up from the depths, hoisting him aboard and motioning him below right before the boarding party jumped onto the deck and began herding the fishermen to the back of the boat.

The boarding party could smell the boat before they got on board. It wasn't as bad as trochus, but although it clearly wasn't fish, there was that same briny stench of decay.

Once they had secured all the crew, they began inspecting the ship. There was rudimentary diving equipment strewn around, and trays on trays filled with slimy lumps glistening wetly in the sun.

"What on earth is this?" 2Dads was the first to approach their catch, squinting down at the mess before him, and poking one of the lumps gingerly with a gloved finger. It squelched under his touch and he frowned in confusion. It didn't look like any fish he'd ever seen.

Swain swallowed a smirk as 2Dads poked at the thing, coming up behind him and looking down at the nearest tray. "Those look like sea cucumbers, mate."

"Sea cucumbers? Why?" 2Dads' frown deepened, but he was unable to resist another jab at the hapless sea cucumber.

"Are you sure, Swain?" Kate asked, moving closer to her two fellow sailors.

"Pretty sure, ma'am." Swain scooped one up in his hands and held it up to his superior officer, dimples showing as she stepped back, barely missing slime dripping down the front of her Kevlar vest. "Look, only one hole. It breathes through its anus, sort of like you, 2Dads. It's also considered a delicacy in Asian cuisine."

The younger sailor's mouth fell open and he smacked one hand to his chest. "Swaino, quite frankly, I'm offended."

"Alright, alright, keep it civil, boys," Kate interjected, wrestling a smile off her face. She rejoined Dutchy and Charge, who had cleared the lower decks in short order, discovering even more sea cucumbers in the hold, and set to the task of trying to get the fishermen to talk, which was always difficult when none of them spoke much English.

Having made little headway, she stepped away from them to radio back to Mike. "Hammersley, this is X-ray 82. They claim they didn't know they were fishing in our EEZ, but it appears that they have been poaching sea cucumbers. Recommend apprehension and tow back to base, over," she began, positioning her radio closer to her mouth.

Mike, who had been watching the entire thing through binoculars, picked up the radio, nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Roger that, X. Tow approved. Get Charge to set that up, escort the fishermen back here, and we'll be on our way, over."

"Will do, sir, over," she replied, relaying the information to Charge, while Mike began maneuvering the Hammersley close enough to attach a tow line. The warship dwarfed the FFV, casting a shadow over the smaller ship as she moved in slowly. The water was shallow and striated with barely submerged reefs, and Hammersley's bulk, while a blessing in a storm, was only a hindrance now.

Working quickly, Charge and Dutchy attached the lines while Swain, Kate, and 2Dads accompanied the motley crew back to the Hammersley, and once they were secured in austere, the ship made a wide turn to head for Cairns.

**Coral Sea, Afternoon Watch: 13:21**

Swain drummed his fingers absently against the conn, staring out at the endless waves in front of the Hammersley. Once the excitement of the FFV brushing a reef had ebbed, the ship had slowed dramatically to prevent any further damage, and they were running even more behind schedule than they had been before apprehending the FFV. He swallowed down the anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Chloe's first dance recital was in a few hours, and even with the ship going close to full speed, he had a sinking feeling they weren't going to make it, and the guilt was rising. She'd been buzzing about it for the last few weeks and he desperately wanted to be there.

A flurry of motion from the cameras on austere caught his peripheral vision, and he snapped out of his mood to zero in on the cameras. Two of the fishermen were holding another one down as his entire body seized, and Swain was up and out of his chair in an instant. "Looks like a med emergency in austere, sir," he tossed over his shoulder as he ran from the bridge.

"Keep me posted," Mike replied as the door swung shut.

Swain could hear the panic before he reached austere, and he flung the door open and practically tumbled into the room, hands up to show he meant no harm. "I'm a medic," he said, approaching the afflicted man and pushing two of the others out of the way gently but firmly. The seizure had subsided, but as Swain parted the man's shirt to listen to his breathing, he caught his breath. His chest was mottled purple and white, and the man in front of him was barely lucid, eyes rolling under fluttering eyelids. He managed to keep the stream of expletives in as he took in the wetness down the front of the man's pants and the way he was cradling his head.

"Charlie 82, I think he's got the bends. He must have been diving and they hauled him up before we got there," he said into his radio, which crackled to life almost immediately. "I'm not equipped to deal with this, sir."

Mike's eyes widened and he turned to RO. "I need you to find the nearest asset with a doctor and radio them. It's an emergency."

"On it, sir." RO's fingers were already flying across his controls. "HMAS Newcastle is less than two hours away at top speed."

"Charge, top of the green," Mike ordered, turning in his chair to address the engineer.

"Right away, sir," Charge replied, increasing the revolutions to max.

"HMAS Newcastle, this is HMAS Hammersley. We have a medical emergency and request an emergency patient transfer, over…" RO's voice joined the buzz of flying commands in the bridge.

"Swain, can you keep him stable until we can get to the Newcastle?" Mike asked a few minutes later, after the Newcastle had accepted their request.

"I'll do my best, sir," Swain replied, waving Dutchy into austere, and the two carried the fisherman to the wardroom, where he slid an oxygen mask over his face let the man curl into himself. If his chances of making Chloe's recital were slim before, they were absolutely shot now. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. Sally was already on edge with him, and he reckoned this had probably just pushed her over.

**Coral Sea, First Dog Watch: 5:35**

"Swain?" RO stuck his head out of the radio room, catching the other officer as he headed to the galley for dinner. "I've got Sally on the line for you."

"Thanks." Suddenly not as hungry, Swain ducked into the room.

"She doesn't sound happy," RO added, handing the sat phone over, but otherwise not moving.

"RO…" Swain cleared his throat, flicking his eyes out the door, but Robert didn't get the hint as he often didn't.

"I have to be here, but I'm not listening," Robert replied, picking up his bonsai shears and getting to work.

Swain glared at the younger sailor. "RO, it's personal. Please just give me five minutes with my _wife_."

Robert looked over at his superior officer's steely face and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. "Fine. Five minutes." He made a show of checking his watch but stepped out of the room, the door banging shut behind him.

"Sal?" Swain whispered, gripping the phone tightly and bracing himself.

"Where are you?" she hissed, and he recoiled, not expecting quite that level of anger so soon. "Chlo's recital starts any minute now."

"I'm still at sea," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We had a medical emergency and had to rendezvous with a ship better equipped to deal with it, but we're on our way back to port now."

"That doesn't do us much good now, does it?" Sally snapped, and he could hear the quiver of not-so-distant tears in her voice, which tore a gaping hole in his chest. "Chloe's been asking about you. She's so excited. You were supposed to be here, Chris."

"I'm so sorry, Sal. You know I'd rather be there," he insisted, propping his head in one hand as he pressed the receiver to his face so tightly he could feel its warmth.

"You're never home," she continued, and the quiver was gone, replaced instead by a flinty edge and burgeoning rage. "You missed her birth, you've missed half of her birthdays, and you just continue to keep missing things. She keeps on asking me why her friends' daddies come to things but you never do and I don't know what to tell her anymore."

"Now that's not fair!" Swain burst out, feeling his guilt meld with indignation. "You knew what you were getting into when you married me and when we started trying for a baby. Do you want me to take a shore posting?"

"No, you won't be happy. You'll resent me for it," she replied, tamping down the rage and finding it replaced by a deep bitterness.

"Then what do you want? Tell me what you want me to do, Sally." Tears were beginning to well in his eyes, and he blinked the pricking away furiously, aware of the desperation creeping into his voice.

"I don't know if I want to keep doing this, Chris," she said slowly, and she might as well have cracked his ribcage wide open and ripped his heart out with her bare hands. "It's not fair to me and it's not fair to Chloe."

He blew out a shaky sigh. "Look, we'll be back in port by 21:00. Take some time to think about what you want and we can talk about it when I get in. I love you."

"Alright." The line went dead and he slumped back in his chair, rubbing his hands across his face. The arguments had become more frequent and balancing the job that he loved with the family he loved was tearing him apart.

"It's been five." Robert stepped back into the room, took one look at Swain, and left for the galley to get a brew before the other man could respond.

Swain peeled himself out of the chair, not feeling much like dinner anymore, and headed to his rack, where he lay down and closed his eyes.

As his shipmates dispersed into the night, he waited on the dock in his whites until he couldn't wait anymore, fatigue tugging at his eyelids. Willing himself to stay awake, he called himself a cab, let himself into a darkened house and dropped into bed, the other side cold and conspicuously empty.

**Three months earlier, Cairns: 19:39**

After a tricky SIEV boarding that had culminated in a round of bullets to his Kevlar, Swain was once again reminded of how lucky he was to be alive as he hauled his aching body off the Hammersley to enjoy the next week of shore leave, which included lots of hugging his daughter tightly.

The driveway was empty, which wasn't entirely unusual, but the house was so empty the silence rang, and the air was slightly stale and musty.

"Sally? Chloe?" he called, stepping cautiously over the threshold and noticing the lack of shoes on the mat, the eerie quiet pressing in on him. He set his bag down with relief and went to head upstairs when he noticed a sheaf of papers on the kitchen table. Stomach plummeting, he approached them like they might explode, and reached for them, fingers shaking already. When he read the works on the front, his pulse raced and blood rushed through his ears. With damp palms, he dropped into the nearest chair, head in his hands and tears beginning to run down his cheeks. Divorce papers. Sally had left him divorce papers, her signature already signed neatly on the dotted line. There was no denying it anymore - it really was over.


	2. One

**Chapter One**

**Present day, Coral Sea, Afternoon Watch: 14:27**

The smell was rapidly becoming more familiar, that same whiff of rotting sea life, and as the boarding party drew closer, they could see coils of rope and cables on the deck. This time, there was a man struggling to get out of his wetsuit, standing in a puddle of water, breathing apparatus and mask at his feet.

"Are you getting this, 2Dads?" Kate asked, and the electronic tech nodded, one hand rising briefly to his helmet cam.

Before he could respond, there was a burst of gunfire and they all ducked instinctively, drawing their pistols and staying low.

Mike was watching from the bridge wings and pressed his binoculars hard against his eyes as the shots echoed across the water. Once he'd checked that nobody was hurt, he grabbed the radio. "Foreign fishing vessel on my port bow, this is Australian warship Hammersley. Stop or heave to, we intend to board you in compliance with Australian maritime law. Hold your fire or we will fire upon you."

Charge had moved from his console to the Typhoon controls and began dialling in the target, hoping to get a square strike on the engines to disable them. "Target acquired, boss," he said, waiting for the command.

"Hold your fire, Charge, let's see if they'll let us board," Mike responded, reaching for the radio again. "Foreign fishing vessel, I say again, stop or heave to, we intend to board you."

"No!" Mike's radio crackled to life, the vehemence on the other side hardly startling under the circumstances. "You may not board! We will shoot."

"Charge, three rounds, 50 yards ahead of their bow." Mike clenched one fist around the radio and watched as Charge sent a line of bullets neatly in front of the FFV, which continued on as though nothing had happened, although more crew appeared on deck with machine guns. He sighed. There was an easy way to board a ship and a hard way, and they were forcing him to take the hard way.

"They're not slowing down, sir," Charge reported, poised for the next step.

"I can see that. Disabling fire, Charge," Mike commanded, sitting back in his chair and letting him take out the engines, the RHIB bobbing in the waves a safe distance away.

The FFV ground to a halt, her engines useless, and in the ensuing confusion Dutchy was able to launch a smoke grenade aboard and the rest of the boarding party jumped in, but the fishermen were better prepared this time and fought back with fists and bullets, while Mike watched from the bridge, heart racing the way it always did when boardings went pear-shaped. His pulse didn't return to normal until his people had disarmed the remaining crew and cuffed them securely, herding them to the back of the boat, coughing from the smoke and glowering at Dutchy and Swain as they stood over them with glares firmly on their faces.

Mike jumped out of his seat as the FFV lurched forward and Swain's arms grasped for the nearest thing to catch himself, getting handful of dead sea cucumber and narrowly missing smacking his face against a tray of them. If it hadn't been a fraught situation, he would have chucked as the medic pulled a disgusted face and wiped his hands on his DPNUs, lips still curled. He couldn't hear the almighty shriek of the hull on something just below the surface, but he could tell Kate did, as her hand flew to her radio, and Dutchy moved in as the fishermen tried to seize their opportunity to regain control of their vessel.

"X-ray 82, sit rep, over?"

"Hammersley, this is X-ray 82. We've hit something, over." Her smooth voice in his ear was a relief after watching his people get shot at barely 15 minutes earlier.

"X-ray 82, do you know what it is?" Mike asked, grip tightening on his radio again. So much for having everything under control.

Kate waved 2Dads over, and he jogged to her, dodging the mess on the deck. "Take a look," she ordered, and he scrambled to the bow, peering over the side to see the same brilliantly coloured coral too close to the surface for comfort. He couldn't see much from his vantage point, but he could tell that they were firmly impaled on it.

"It's a reef, X!" he yelled back, stomach sinking like a stone as he set his feet back on the deck, which was swaying beneath him. "We're stuck."

"Okay, I need you to check below decks and see if she's taking on water." Kate felt adrenaline flowing through her system again, fingers tingling with it as she moved towards Dutchy and Swain, who were keeping the uncooperative fishermen in place with increasing difficulty. "We've hit a reef," she whispered to them. "2Dads is assessing the damage now."

Dutchy frowned, wiping the sweat from his temples under his visor. "How did we manage that?"

Kate turned to survey their landscape and noticed with a jolt how far they'd drifted. With no engines, the small ship was at the mercy of the currents diverted around a line of fringe reefs as the tide went out. The surface looked calm enough, but the subsurface currents were deceptively strong, and they'd been unlucky enough to get stuck in one. The RHIB would have been fine, but the FFV was loaded down with a full hold of sea cucumbers and didn't stand a chance. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache gathering behind her eyes from the lingering acrid smoke and the overwhelming stench of dead sea cucumbers. She was definitely going to need a hot shower before she even attempted to tackle the incident reports she knew were coming.

Before she could reply, 2Dads came running up from lower decks like a bat out of hell, his DPNUs soaked up to his calves and sweat trickling down his neck. "She's sinking, ma'am. We need to get out of here."

"Hammersley, this is X-ray 82. She's taking on water, over," Kate said into her radio, feeling her palms suddenly grow slippery.

"Roger that, X. Get the crew and get back here, out," Mike responded, binoculars in hand again. He peered through them, unsure if the FFV was sitting even lower in the water than before, or if he was just imagining it, and crossed his fingers his team wouldn't cop too much resistance on their way back.

"X?" Swain stepped away from Dutchy and crossed the deck to her, face curious but eyebrows pinched with concern. "What's going on?" He kept his voice as low as possible, but it was hard over the buzz of the fishermen talking to each other and Dutchy struggling to maintain order.

"We've hit a reef and the ship's taking on water. We need to go now," she replied, hoping to convey urgency without panic. "Start getting everybody in the RHIB."

"Ma'am." Swain nodded his assent and hurried back to Dutchy, filling him in as quickly as possible.

"Your ship is sinking. Come with us to the RHIB," Dutchy began, motioning the cuffed fishermen towards the inflatable, but the master jumped to his feet and jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest, barely flinching as it bounced off his Kevlar.

"This is your fault!" he shouted, eyes flaming as he glared at Dutchy, taking in a breath. "First you shoot my crew, then you sink my ship and waste my catch! When my bosses kill me, my blood will be on your hands!" His words were punctuated by little pauses as he searched for the correct words in a foreign tongue.

Dutchy pushed the master towards the RHIB with just enough force to convey that he didn't appreciate being spoken to like that. "Nobody's going to kill you. Now get in the RHIB and we're going to get you all to safety before this thing goes down." He clambered into the RHIB, extending a hand to help Kate in, and finally 2Dads jumped in, with a camera-full of footage for evidence.

**Cairns, Morning Watch: 07:50**

Mike could hear the hum of activity throughout the ship as her crew prepared for shore leave and he wished he could go with them, but he was bogged down under a pile of incident reports. Scraping a reef was one thing, but losing an FFV was an entirely different thing, and the fishermen were adamant that they were going to be killed, which always made him uneasy, no matter the veracity of the claim. Even the Hammersley alone had encountered a sharp rise in sea cucumber poachers over the last few months, and they were rapidly multiplying into a plague for the Navy to manage.

They didn't know much at the moment, just that most of the vessels could be traced to Ho Chi Minh and a handful to Hong Kong, but with the apprehended crew refusing to talk much and the language barrier, details were hard to come by.

Kate knocked gently on his door and poked her head around the doorframe with a smile and a brew in each hand. "I thought you could use one," she said, stepping into his cabin and closing the door behind her.

"Is there whiskey in it?" he asked, looking up at her hopefully with a half-smile.

"I wish. Cheers." She clinked her travel mug against his and sat down on his bunk. "What did you want to tell me?"

Mike ran his fingers through the silver threads at his temples and looked over at his second command with a crooked smile. "NAVCOM is taking the master's threat seriously, and we've been tasked with tracing this poaching ring," he said, taking a sip of his coffee and closing his eyes. The caffeine was much needed at this point and he could feel himself perking up already. "They're also assigning us a new navigator to help. We're going to meet her later this morning, so you might want to clear some space on that bottom bunk, because you're about to have some company,

"Are my skills not good enough?" She frowned into the depths of her mug before meeting his gaze squarely, and he could tell she was hurt.

"Your skills are excellent, and you know that, Kate," he replied, reaching out for her hand, and she let him cover her fingers with his for a moment. "It's not about that at all, but Maxine insists she has the perfect woman for the job."

Maxine's name always made Kate tense, and this was no exception, so Mike circled his thumb soothingly across the back of her hand. She didn't pull away until they heard footsteps in the hallway, then she broke his grip and returned her hands to clasping her travel mug.

"NAVCOM would like us there at 10:00, so do you want to grab breakfast beforehand?" he offered, hoping the promise of waffles from their favourite breakfast joint would assuage any discomfort Kate had about relinquishing some of the duties she'd taken on since Nav was reassigned.

It was an olive branch, and she took it. "Yeah, okay, but breakfast's your shout," she replied, taking her hair out of her braid, combing her fingers through it, and beginning to twist it back into a sleek bun.

"Of course." Mike shot her another one of those crooked grins that always made her pulse speed up, his grey eyes lightening a few shades. "Looking forward to it, X."

"See you in a bit." Kate ducked out of the room and headed back to her cabin to change into her whites, and he looked after her, eyes a tad cloudy.

**NAVCOM Headquarters, Morning Watch: 10:01**

Mike always had a feeling that Maxine's office wasn't big enough for the three of them. The tension was usually palpable, but Maxine was in a good mood today and Kate had been mollified by waffles topped generously with whipped cream and lashings of chocolate sauce.

"Good job on that FFV," Maxine started, fixing both of them with a sharp gaze, which softened as she smiled. "You showed excellent teamwork and the outcome was favourable. 2Dads got some great footage and should be commended for that."

"Thank you, Commander," Mike replied with a smile, making a mental note to let the electronics tech know. 2Dads managed to find himself in the doghouse more often than being the object of praise, but he was definitely growing in the right direction and Mike believed in positive reinforcement.

"Now, my concern is mainly the ease of navigating around the reefs. All of the FFVs we've found poaching sea cucumbers are in some incredibly dangerous areas, and it's not just you that's had difficulties. HMAS Larrakia almost ran aground a few weeks ago, and HMAS Melbourne pursued an FFV into some very shallow waters last month, so we've brought in an expert to help you out. And there she is." Maxine looked up and waved the woman standing outside her door with a duffel bag on her shoulder in. "Lt. Fraser, it's nice to finally meet you in person. Did you have a good flight?" She offered her hand, and Fraser took it in a firm handshake.

Kate assessed their newest crew member: early thirties, about 5'8, built lean and boyish, the type of pale complexion that screamed 'long-term shore posting' to those in know, round porcelain blue eyes, and peeking out from beneath her hat, buttery blonde hair in pulled back into two French plaits that twisted into a neat bun.

"Likewise, Commander White. I had an uneventful flight and I'm happy to be here," she replied, before turning to Mike and Kate with a smile, extending her hand.

"Lt. Commander Flynn, Lt. McGregor, this is your new navigator, Lt. Dr. Charlotte Fraser from the Hydrographic headquarters in Sydney. She's been involved in charting a large chunk of the northern part of the Great Barrier Reef. She just got in this morning, so I hope you'll take her back to the ship and let her get good and settled in." Maxine turned back to Fraser, all business again. "Have you read the briefing, Lt. Fraser?"

"Read it on the plane, so I should be up to speed," she replied quickly, "but they can catch me up on anything I've missed in the car."

"Sounds good. Mike, I'll need those incident reports ASAP, but you're free to go. I'll keep you posted with anything I hear from Coastwatch." Summarily dismissed, the three left Maxine's office and joined the flow of white-clad sailors out of the building.

"Didn't you teach at ADFA right around the time I left?" Mike asked, trying to figure out why his new navigator looked vaguely familiar and her name hovered on the tip of his tongue. "I heard rumours about some young professor fresh out of grad school."

"The rumours are true; I was pretty rubbish at teaching," she admitted with a chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck self-consciously.

"I didn't hear rubbish," Mike grinned, as they emerged into the hot sunshine and humidity.

"I believe 'ballbuster' was the word 2Dads used," Kate supplied wryly, opening her car door and sliding into the driver's seat. Mike claimed the passenger seat, and Fraser got into the back.

"Yeah, well, he wouldn't be wrong. You can't expect loads of enthusiasm from a required first-year course. Teaching wasn't really my calling so I didn't last very long." At least she was honest about it.

Kate turned the key in the ignition and the engine rumbled to life. She guided the car into traffic and towards the docks, where they hopped out and Fraser grabbed her bag from the boot.

"So, what are we going to call you?" Mike asked, since Maxine hadn't given any indication of a nickname.

"The Hydrographic don't really use nicknames, but I reckon Charlie's just fine, sir," she replied easily, shouldering her bag and following her superior officers up the gangplank, taking their lead and saluting as she reached the top.

"Charlie it is. X, can you show Charlie to her rack, give her the grand tour and introduce her to the crew on watch, please? After that you can let her unpack. I'll be in my cabin." Mike turned to talk to the sailors loading food onto the ship, and Kate and Charlie headed below decks.

"You'll be sharing a cabin with me," Kate said, as they descended the stairs to the crew quarters. She opened the door and gestured to the bottom bunk. "This one's all yours."

Charlie set her bag down and hustled after Kate up to the bridge, taking in the many controls with eager eyes. She ran a hand over the navigational station, taking a minute to familiarize herself with her new workstation, and let Kate introduce her to the few crew left on the ship.

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**a/n: **I was going to wait a few days to update but my muse is going great guns so here we are! Thanks to mimiparis5, Coastwatch Girl, TessaTessa, and brujayrebelde for you lovely reviews! As always, thanks for reading and please do let me know what you think. Also, for anybody who might be leary of OCs, I promise this isn't going to be OC-centric, so don't let that deter you.


	3. Two

**a/n:** thanks to TessaTessa and Coastwatchgirl for your lovely reviews! Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and please do leave me a comment whether you loved it or hated it.

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**Chapter Two**

**The next day, Cairns, Afternoon Watch: 15:07**

Kate's hand was wrapped around an icy glass of sangria, the glass dewed with condensation. Mike's arm was wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her against him. It was a warm, dozy kind of afternoon, furthered by a glass of homemade sangria liberally dotted with fresh fruit. Her patio was open, the sheer curtains undulating lazily in the breeze.

"Cheers," he said, holding out his glass for a clink, which she returned, and sipped deeply before returning the glass to her coffee table.

His hand was resting on her thigh, sneaking just above the hem of her light cotton sundress, and she wasn't sure if the head rush was from his soft touch or the sangria, but she was sure that this was in no way platonic. Now if they could just keep it off the ship until they found a qualified replacement for Mike, which Maxine had been promising for months now.

Mike's fingers threaded through her hair, which fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and he turned her face towards him, capturing her lips in a kiss, which Kate returned, ignoring the fact that they were breaking more than one rule. He deepened the kiss, lowering himself gently on top of her, and was about to reach for the zipper on her dress when his phone rang and they both groaned in frustration. He rolled over and grabbed it, vibrating on her coffee table.

"Flynn," he said, as Kate sat up reluctantly and smoothed her hair, watching his face intently to see if it was good news, and she got her answer as his face dropped. "Yeah, yeah, okay. I'll let them know. Thanks."

"What is it?" she asked, crossing her legs and pulling her dress down.

"Coastwatch has spotted three bodies in the water in the Coral Sea and Maxine would like us to check it out. We sail at 16:00." He straightened his short-sleeved button-down ruefully. "What a sense of timing the world has."

"Do you think the universe is trying to tell us something?" she suggested archly, arms folded over her chest.

"Nah, we're just unlucky."

Kate stood and picked up her DPNUs, fresh from the laundry and folded neatly on her kitchen counter, before returning to Mike. "Unzip me?"

"With pleasure," he replied cheekily, his hands warm on her shoulder and waist as he smoothly released the clasp and moved her zipper down, and she stepped out of her dress and into her camo pants.

"Not now, Mike," she grumbled, because his hands did things to her and she didn't have time to deal with it at the moment. She looked up, regretting her sharp tone, and offered him a tentative smile. "Separate cabs?"

"Always." One corner of his mouth turned up, but she could tell he was disappointed. "I'm going to call the crew. Meet you there."

"Roger that," she replied, and began double-checking her duffel bag.

**HMAS Hammersley, Cairns, Second Dog Watch: 17:00**

Some things were good for crew morale but being crash sailed for a body recovery wasn't one of them. Bird and 2Dads stood at the bow in silence, peering through binoculars at the miles of open ocean in front of them, reflecting the intense golden hue of the sun sitting low on the horizon, while Ryan stood at the stern.

"There! 45 degrees starboard!" Bird called, lowering her binoculars and pointing to the yellow bobbing lifejackets in the water. She dashed into the bridge. "Sir, there's something in the water, 45 degrees starboard."

"Can you get that on the EOD, X?" Mike asked, as Kate began focusing the camera.

"Bird's right, sir, three bodies in the water." Kate reached for the radio. "Three bodies in the water, green 45, stand by to recover by sea boat."

"Away sea boat," Charge ordered, lowering the RHIB into the calm water where it took off towards the bright life jackets floating aimlessly with the waves.

Swain leaned over the side to pull one limp, pale man into the bottom of the RHIB, and Dutchy grabbed the other two, looping his arms under their shoulders and hoisting them in.

Reaching for the first man's neck, Swain probed for a pulse, not expecting to find one. As he flipped him over, he gasped and sat back on his heels. There was a bullet hole through his temple, but more horrifyingly, it was the master of the last FFV they'd boarded. Feeling himself deflate like a pricked balloon, he shook his head grimly to Dutchy, and moved onto the next man. There was blood coming from somewhere under his lifejacket, but he was alive – barely. The last man had a bleeding head wound and a broken arm.

"We've got to get them back to the ship," Swain said, and Dutchy gunned the RHIB's engine while the medic radioed Mike with an update, and there was a squad waiting for them on the boat deck.

The second the RHIB stopped moving, Swain jumped out and he and Dutchy began lifting the second man onto the deck, working his lifejacket off. Underneath was a bullet hole in his shoulder, oozing lazily.

Bird handed Swain his kit bag and knelt down beside the man with the head wound, recognizing him from the last FFV, and began to clean up his head first.

"Charlie, get over here!" Swain yelled, tossing her a stethoscope and sliding his into his ears.

She caught it automatically and looked down at the black tubing in her hands blankly. "What?"

Swain turned his head with a flicker of frustration. The man in front of him was about to bleed out on the deck if they didn't act fast. "The CO said you were a doctor!"

"Yeah, but not a medical one!" Her blue eyes were wide, and he could see the panic reflected in them, could hear her breath coming fast and hard, but she took a deep breath and composed herself, kneeling across from him on the other side of the man. "What do you need me to do?"

He handed her a pair of gloves and once she had them on, he passed her a gauze pad. "I need you to apply pressure to the wound to staunch the bleeding enough to get him down to the wardroom."

"Okay," Charlie murmured, swapping her hands for his as he and Dutchy shifted the man onto a stretcher and rushed him below decks. Adrenaline was absolutely flooding her system, and if she hadn't had a grip on the patient's shoulder, her hands would have been shaking. She could feel the blood coming, warm and sticky, but it seemed to be slowing slightly. She had no idea if that was a good sign or not, but before she could worry about it, Swain was sliding an IV into the man's arm and pumping him full of saline to try to counter the blood loss. He nudged her firmly out of the way and began using butterfly sutures to close the wound until they could get him back to base for emergency surgery.

Bird and Mike brought the second man in a few minutes later, the gash across his temple clean and bandaged, but his arm was lying askew across his torso. Swain busied himself getting him on painkillers, before he and Bird set and wrapped the break.

Mike touched Swain's shoulder gently once the frenzy of activity had slowed. "I have a MedEvac helo coming in 45 minutes. You've done a great job."

Swain blew out a breath and gave the captain a half-smile. "Thanks. Boss?"

Mike turned in the doorway. "Yes?"

"Those men… they're from the FFV from yesterday. The dead man was the master, these two are crew," Swain said slowly, gazing guiltily at the two. Somewhere, somehow, the system had failed them, and they'd ended up nearly dead in the middle of the ocean. It seemed like an awfully steep price to pay for some invertebrates.

"Are you sure?" Mike frowned, ducking back into the room for a closer look.

"I'm sure," Swain responded, nodding. The master had been aggressive enough with Dutchy that his face had stuck, and he remembered cuffing the other two.

"Okay. Leave it with me." Face falling at yet another complication, Mike turned and headed to his cabin to update NAVCOM.

The 45 minutes felt like seconds and hours at the same time, as he and Bird prepped the critically injured man for a flight to the mainland and tried to keep the man with the broken arm as comfortable as possible. Once the two were loaded safely into the helicopter and the steady throb of the rotors had faded into the distance, Bird headed to the galley to prepare dinner, and Swain made his way back down to clean up the wardroom, only to find it mostly tidied up. Smiling to himself, he stopped in to check in on Bird and grab a cup of tea.

He placed his hands on her shoulders as he moved behind her for the kettle. "How are you doing?" he asked earnestly, looking down at her with a little concern. For somebody that handled every successive crisis better than the last, sometimes he forgot just how young she was, and wanted to make sure she was as okay as it was possible to be.

She turned around and smiled at him, eyes a little tired but not defeated. "I'm fine, Swain. We did a good job."

"That we did," he agreed, hugging her briefly, before reaching to pour hot water into two travel mugs. "You're turning into a damn fine medic, Bird. I'm really proud of you."

She glowed at praise, putting down her spatula for a second, and when she met his eyes her cheeks were rosy. "Thank you, that means a lot coming from you," she replied softly, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I mean it." He grinned, picking up the two mugs and carefully edging around her. "Smells great in here. I'll be back for some SCRAN in a bit."

Swain made his was to the boat deck and found the person he was looking for standing at the stern, hands on the railing and back to him. "Thanks for the help earlier," he started, and Charlie turned around with a smile, her bun less intact than earlier and tendrils falling out around her face in a halo backlit by the setting sun. He held out the extra mug, the steam blowing off it in the wind. "I thought you could use a cuppa."

"Hey, all I did was do what you told me to," she replied, accepting the mug gratefully and taking a sip.

He leaned his elbows against the railing, looking over at her curiously. "So not a medical doctor, eh?"

"PhD, oceanography," she admitted, wrapping her hands around the mug and looking down into it thoughtfully, letting out a deep breath. "I've been on a shore posting with the Hydrographic Service for the last three years, but they've loaned me out for a bit."

Swain assessed her face, exhausted and slightly drawn with a medic's eyes. "Well, if you're ever feeling seasick, I have pills I can give you, and there's always ginger ale in the galley," he offered with a warm smile.

"Oh no, I don't get seasick, don't worry. This might be my first patrol boat, but I've done plenty of time on research vessels much smaller than this," she assured him, returning his grin and smoothing a hand over her hair, which was an exercise in futility.

He chuckled, taking a sip of his tea and leaning back even further. "That's for the best, because those pills don't really work anyways," he laughed, tilting his head back and letting the wind run its cool fingers through his hair.

"Don't I know it." She sat down, letting her back rest against the guard rails, and he joined her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their tea, until he noticed her eyelids were beginning to droop and there were goosebumps dimpling her upper arms below her standard-issue white t-shirt. She'd shed her DPNU top when she discovered it was blotched with blood and hadn't bothered to put a fresh one on, since she was off-watch and the air had been balmy.

"You look like you need some rest, Charlie," he observed with half-smile, draining the last of his mug.

As if on cue, she yawned, her hand raising to cover her mouth a few seconds too late. "Is that an order?"

"It could be," he retorted teasingly, getting stiffly to his feet and offering her his hand, which she took gratefully, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Yeah, give me a few," she said, admiring the cotton candy clouds, darkening more to a deep violet by the minute. "I haven't seen a sunset at sea for a while and I'd forgotten how much I missed it."

"I never get tired of it," he admitted, looking out over the calm sea to the horizon miles away.

The silence stretched out comfortably between them until the sun had well and truly set, and everything on the boat deck had turned to shades of greyed-out indigo. "Well, I guess I'd better get some sleep," she said, checking her black Garmin and heading back towards the door. "I've got an early watch."

"Good night," Swain called as the door swung shut behind her, leaving him alone with his thoughts in the deepening dusk.

He set his mug down at his feet and stared out over the gentle swell, finding himself oddly glad they'd been crash sailed because it got him out of his empty house, and he was becoming more aware by the day that he was more comfortable at sea than on land. He missed Chloe and Sally terribly, but at the same time he wasn't stupid enough to deny the fact that he was grieving the life that they could have had, or even the life they'd had a few years earlier. Perth was a long way away, and it felt even further with his status as a shipstopper meaning that truly guaranteed leave for more than a few days was hard to come by.

Divorces took time and even though theirs wasn't necessarily as acrimonious as some, his job having him spending most of his time in the middle of the ocean drew out the process considerably. Sally wasn't being particularly receptive to any form of reconciliation - at least as a couple - which broke his heart, but he was slowly coming to terms with the end of an era that had marked the last decade, and that brought a flood of feelings that he hadn't expected rising to the surface like an oil slick. He hoped that at the end of it, there would at least be some relief and some kind of closure.

"Swaino, you out here, mate?" Charge's voice echoed over the nearly empty deck, and he squinted into the darkness, trying to spot his friend. He ambled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder blade. He could sense the emotional turmoil from the other side of the deck, and having been through his own divorce many years earlier for similar reasons, he sympathized. The difference between the two was that he had known on some level that he was letting his side down, whereas anybody who interacted with Swain knew he was a devoted father and adored Sally. The demise of that marriage was one-sided, while he and Helen had both known it was coming and even welcomed it towards the end.

Swain looked up at the light touch and smiled wistfully up at the engineer. "Yeah, I'm just thinking."

Charge took in the sadness in his eyes and understood, wrapping an arm around Swain's shoulders and drawing him slowly away from the railing he was leaning against. "I think it might be time for you to stop thinking and eat some dinner, yeah? Bird saved you a plate."

"I guess I am pretty hungry," Swain admitted, realizing his stomach was grumbling for the first time.

"Great, let's go. We can fill you in on all the gossip about the new nav while you eat," Charge suggested with a chuckle, arm still around his friend's shoulders as he pushed open the door and led him below decks. "She taught 2Dads at the academy and he swears she's Satan reincarnate."

"2Dads thinks anybody who's remotely firm with him is Satan reincarnate," Swain shot back with a knowing grin, as they entered the galley and Bird held out a heaping plate towards him with a bright smile. He took his plate into the senior sailor's mess, where the last few stragglers after dinner were hanging out on various surfaces, talking amongst themselves with a monopoly board on one of the tables. He could smell coffee wafting from the cups of those on night watches, the scent innately comforting as was the buzz of chatter surrounding him, ranging from general grumbles about being crash-sailed to ship gossip.

"Monopoly?" Charge asked, picking up the battleship and dangling it between two fingers.

"The bloodthirstier the better," Swain replied, prepared to let himself be distracted for the time being.

Dutchy rubbed his hands together as he sat down next to Swain, then reached for the cannon piece. "Alright, let's indulge in some capitalism."


	4. Three

**Chapter Three**

**One month later, Coral Sea, First Dog Watch: 18:03**

"How did that go?" Mike asked, as Kate climbed onto the boat deck and slid off her helmet and radio, but he didn't really have to ask. Her hair was mussed, Kevlar splattered with bits of sea cucumber, and her lips were tightly pursed.

"Like a lead balloon," she retorted, as the rest of the boarding party ascended, shepherding the latest round of fishermen to austere. "RO, go get Swain to take a look at that eye, please."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, reaching up to touch the livid bruising around his eye socket and wincing as his fingertips brushed the tender skin.

"Now," Kate ordered, since he hadn't moved very far, except to lean his back against the railing with a groan. "The sooner you get ice on it, the better it'll look."

"Yes ma'am."

She fixed him with a steely stare as he slowly slipped out of his Kevlar, rubbing his neck, and shuffled below before she turned back to Mike. "They're insisting they don't know anything, and their bosses will kill them for getting taken into custody. Every boat we apprehend has better weapons than the last, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets seriously hurt."

"I know," Mike said soothingly, motioning for her to turn around, and when she did, he began undoing the clips of her Kevlar for her. She slid out of it gratefully and he was rewarded with a thin smile as he handed the vest over. "I've spoken to NAVCOM about it, but they have few leads except that they think they're coming through the Torres Strait."

"Why don't we head up there instead of taking our chances out here?" she asked, frowning as she cleared her Browning and removed her thigh holster.

"It is not for us to question why," Mike replied, but she caught the flash of humour in his eyes and could tell he was being facetious. "But seriously, they want us to catch them in the act as much as possible. If they don't have a catch, we can't prove much."

Kate swallowed a frustrated huff. "I guess. We're all feeling pretty beaten up after that one. I don't want to see it get worse," she told him frankly, running her fingers through her bangs. "They only managed to hit me with a few sea cukes, but one sure did give RO a nice shiner."

"Get a shower and a brew, and we'll discuss it later," Mike suggested, folding his arms over his chest as he looked down at his diminutive second-in-command with some concern, before he chuckled. "Did you know sea cukes splatter like rotten tomatoes when they hit Kevlar?"

"I do now," she shot back, giving his arm a playful shove.

He let his chuckle develop into a full-blown laugh as she inspected her vest, lips curling with pure revulsion as she scraped at the goo with a gloved finger, brows knitting further when she realized the heat of the sun had baked it onto the black fabric. "Get a shower, X."

Dutchy took the crew below to get settled in austere, prodding them along as they dragged their feet. Once they were secured, Swain entered the room with his kit, making sure that nobody was seriously injured. The ones that were still alive were more rattled than anything else, but his keen eyes noticed blood seeping through the shirt sleeve of one man, and he approached carefully. "May I?"

With a curt nod, he held out his arm and Swain peeled back his shirt sleeve to discover a deep gash across one forearm. Kneeling in front of the injured man, Swain snapped open his kit and reached for antiseptic, a needle and thread, and dressings. As he flipped over the man's arm, he discovered a beautifully drawn black dragon inked into the paler flesh just below his elbow with a few words below it. He cleaned the wound, then removed his gloves and reached for the camera in his pocket, but as soon as he pulled it out of its case, the other man shoved him away hard, and he fell backwards, one hand flying out to break his fall.

"No! No photograph!" he yelled, standing up and looming over Swain, who looked up at him with wide eyes, other hand raised in self-defence.

"Hey!" Dutchy shouted, rushing away from the others. He pushed him back down and ziptied the non-injured arm to the bed with a deft movement. Drawing himself up to his full height, he stared down the shorter man until the other broke eye contact. "Do. Not. Move."

Swain had rolled to his feet and was shaking out his wrist, frowning. He grabbed another pair of gloves and snapped them on. Every movement was short as he began steristripping the wound shut, and smoothed a bandage over it, none too gently. "That's it until we get back to base. You had your shot, mate."

Once the door to austere swung shut behind them, Swain moved to head up to the bridge, but Dutchy reached out and gripped his shoulder, turning him around gently. "You okay?"

"Fine. Wrist's a little sore but it's barely a sprain." Swain's voice was terse as he cradled his hand, glancing down at his boots.

"Good to hear it. Whatever it is, he sure didn't want you taking photos of his tattoo. I've seen some gang tattoos in my time, and I'd be willing to bet that was one," Dutchy said thoughtfully. "What do you reckon the language was?"

"That was my thought, too. I was thinking it looked like Vietnamese," Swain replied, running a hand through his cropped hair with a deep sigh. "Look, I should go see how Bird's getting on with the boys before I go inform the CO, but thanks for checking in on me."

"Anytime. Do you want me to go see how Chicken Legs is getting on? I've done my fair share of slapping ice on black eyes," Dutchy offered, with a smile that crinkled the corners of his blue eyes.

Swain sighed again, this time running a hand across his forehead. His head was beginning to ache, and his wrist was throbbing. "That'd be great. Let me know if you need back-up."

Dutchy saluted in response, and walked towards the wardroom, whistling cheerfully.

Mike had barely made it back in the bridge, which was emptier than usual as Kate showered, RO licked his wounds and Bird bandaged up the few bullet grazes on 2Dads' legs, and settled himself in his chair when Swain pulled himself into the room, his white t-shirt askew. "Did they give you much trouble?" he asked, patting Kate's empty seat, and Swain dropped into it gratefully.

"Not too much, but one of them had a very interesting tattoo. I tried to photograph it for the Feds, but he got violent with me."

"What kind of tattoo?" Mike swivelled his chair so they were facing each other, one eyebrow quirked as he leaned in curiously.

"It was a black dragon on his forearm, with a few words under it. We're unsure what the language is, but we think it's probably Vietnamese, which would make sense since the vessel is registered to Ho Chi Minh City." Swain sucked in a breath, relaxing his sore body against the back of Kate's chair.

"NAVCOM told me most of the vessels we've caught poaching have been traceable back to Vietnam in some way. I think we might be dealing with a gang here. Have you seen any other poachers with similar tattoos?" Mike asked, staring absently over the open ocean ahead.

Swain shook his head, lips pressing together briefly. "No, but most of them haven't needed much medical attention. This guy sliced himself on something."

"And you got him patched up?" Mike prompted, tearing his eyes away from the waves and focusing on the ship's medic again.

"Yeah, he's going to be fine. He was too combative for me to stitch up, but he's been bandaged, and the bleeding should taper off."

"Great. The Feds can photograph that tattoo while they're at it, but I'll let NAVCOM know and see if I can get RO to dig anything up about black dragon tattoos once he's back on watch tomorrow. Get some food and rest, and that's an order." Mike smiled sympathetically at Swain and waved him from the bridge.

**The next morning, Coral Sea, Forenoon Watch: 9:18**

The next morning, RO sat at his computer in the CommCen, using the ship's terrible internet to search for more on black dragon tattoos. He didn't have to look too far before he clicked on a photo that looked similar to what Swain had described. He sipped his coffee while he waited for it to load, then printed it off. He dug in further, finding himself lost in a rabbit hole, but the frequency of footsteps outside his door signified the watch change, so he grabbed the paper and headed up to the bridge.

"Success?" Kate asked, spinning around in her chair as his footsteps ascended the stairs.

"Maybe," he replied, passing it to Swain. "This look familiar?"

"Yeah, that's it!" Swain breathed, tracing a finger over the words curved under the dragon. "Good work, RO."

The radio operator grinned at the praise. "I'll do you one better. I translated the words under it. It's Vietnamese for 'death before dishonour.' It means the person is part of the Black Dragons, a gang mostly active around Ho Chi Minh City, but they're all over the rest of the country. They heavily control the dockyards of major port cities, and they're involved in plenty of illicit activities like gambling, smuggling, and poaching."

"Brilliant job, RO," Kate said, her eyes alight as she smiled widely at him. She turned and took a good look at his face for the first time that morning. "How's the eye? It looks much better."

"It's alright, I guess," he responded with an offhand shrug, taking a seat at the radio station and beginning to go over everything the way he always did at the start of a watch.

"Doesn't look too bad, mate," Charge noted as he ascended the stairs to the bridge and edged himself behind RO to get to his console, where he began checking the systems like he did every time he started watch.

RO nodded, reaching up briefly to touch his cheekbone, which was still tender and bruised but hardly unbearably so. "Thank you, Charge."

Mike was the next into the bridge, taking them two at a time despite the rocking of the deck beneath his feet, and Kate slid from the CO's chair and over to her empty one.

"You have the ship, sir."

"I have the ship," he replied automatically, turning to her with a look on her face that she knew meant he was up to something. "Do you feel like morale is low, X?"

"After yesterday, absolutely," she whispered back, leaning in to keep things as quiet as she could in a bridge full of people.

Mike looked across to where Charlie was sitting at the nav con, eyes focused on the screen. "Charlie, where's the best place to swim around here?"

She looked up sharply, pulling her French braid over one shoulder with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "Swim, sir?"

"Where could we anchor and let the crew blow off some steam in the water while we wait for the Feds?" he clarified, letting his gaze drift out over the teal waves, capped in white froth for a few seconds. The heat was beginning to get stifling, and he knew that wasn't helping tempers run cool.

"Oh!" Her fingers flew across her con and she double-tapped the screen, pulling up a map. "There's a little coral cay we could anchor in the lee of about 20 nautical miles north of here, sir. There's enough depth to anchor safely but it's calm with few currents," she replied, looking up and over at him, head still tilted curiously.

"Get us there," Mike told her, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest with satisfaction. He and Kate exchanged glances, and she flashed him a half-smile and a subtle thumbs up.

"Aye, sir. Steer 60, revolutions 1400."

"Steer 60, revolutions 1400," Swain repeated, feeling a spark of joy the way he always did when the ship responded beneath him as he altered their bearing and changed the engine speed.

Once their course had been set and they were on their way, Mike sipped his brew before reaching for the radio again, the mischievous smile back again. "You hear there, captain speaking. We will be rendezvousing with the Feds for a prisoner transfer at around 14:00, but before then we'll be anchoring north of here to wait. All crew not on watch are free to take some R&R. I hear the water's great." He snapped off the radio and got up again, travel mug in hand.

"Where are you going?" Kate whispered as he passed her.

"Filling 'er up," he replied, waving his empty mug for emphasis. "Oh, and asking Bird to rustle up a steel beach barbie. Do you need another brew?"

Wordlessly, Kate handed her mug over, shaking her head at him as he prepared to descend the steps in the same way he'd come up them, one hand planted firmly on the rail. "I have the ship, sir."

Bird was in the galley cleaning up after breakfast when the captain stuck his head and his travel mug in.

"Mind if I grab a brew?"

"Not at all, sir," the younger sailor replied, filling both his and Kate's mugs generously and handing them back with a bright smile.

Mike leaned in the doorway, mug in each hand, and looked over at Bird, who was clearing away dishes. "Can I ask you a favour?"

She put down the stack of plates and stared at him curiously for a few seconds. "Of course you can, sir, you're in charge here."

"Do you think you could put on a steel beach barbie for lunch? I'll grill," he offered, sliding the top of his coffee mug open and taking a sip.

"No problem, sir," she replied, accepting his enthusiastic high-five with a little confusion and a lot of happiness.

"Thanks, Bird! We appreciate it." He gave her a smile that glowed with genuine warmth before he turned and headed back to the bridge, hands full of coffee, and she began rummaging through the fridge to see what she could scrounge up.

**Coral Sea, Afternoon Watch: 12:15**

The Hammersley drifted languidly on her anchor line, almost as though the sun beating down and the still, humid air were taking its toll on her. The air reflecting off the boat deck practically shimmered with heat, and most of the crew working outside had stripped down to their t-shirts, wearing their patches of sweat like badges of honour.

Once he was satisfied everything was set for the Feds and his watch was well and truly over, Mike left the bridge in the capable hands of the next watch. He almost bumped into Charlie, heading up to the boat deck as he headed for his cabin.

She stepped aside to let him pass. "Sorry, sir."

He glanced at her cobalt blue bikini with a white Oxford unbuttoned over it, folded towel held to her stomach. "Are you going for a swim?"

"Well, sir, the X told me that the boys had been flinging themselves off the side of the ship for 15 minutes now, and it didn't seem fair to let them have all the fun," she responded quickly, with a wide grin that lit up her eyes.

For somebody who still wore more makeup than just waterproof mascara and chapstick to her shifts and managed to incorporate braids of all types into her hair, he was continually surprised to discover she had a streak of wickedly dry humour underneath the very much shore-proper appearance she still maintained on a daily basis.

"Are you joining us?" she pressed, eyebrows slightly raised as she shifted her towel so she was a little more covered, not that he was looking at her in a way that was at all sexual.

Mike hesitated, gaze drifting over her head as a cabin door cracked open further down the hall, and Kate emerged, sunnies perched atop her head, hair falling in loose braid waves over her shoulders, and wearing a very flattering sweetheart-cut indigo one piece and flip-flops, with a towel tucked under her arm. "Yeah, yeah, I reckon I just might," he replied slowly, swallowing hard. Kate already looked good in her daily DPNUs, but the swimsuit was a power move he hadn't expected, and his mouth had suddenly gone dry.

"Alright, looking forward to it." Charlie moved past him up the stairs and he continued down the hall, meeting his second-in-command's eyes with a smile that was suddenly a little self-conscious, and giving her a salute as he passed.

And that was how Mike Flynn found himself doing a cannonball off the Hammersley's boat deck less than 10 minutes later, landing in the stunningly clear turquoise water to a round of whoops and hollers from his crew.

* * *

**a/n:** thanks a mill to TessaTessa and CoastwatchGirl for your lovely reviews! I hope y'all enjoy this update, and please don't forget to drop me a review if you're enjoying the story so far.


	5. Four

**Chapter Four**

**Three weeks later, Coral Sea, First Dog Watch: 18:03**

Swain swung himself over the last step from the bridge and headed immediately for the CommCen, which was mercifully empty since RO was off-watch and presumably otherwise occupied with dinner in the junior sailors' mess. Tapping his boot against the floor with no particular rhythm in mind, he logged onto his email, scanning the obvious spam, the check-in from his parents, and his heart stopped for a fraction of a second as he scanned the most recent one, from his lawyer. With a pulse that was beginning to pound in his ears, he clicked on it, and waited the agonizingly thirty seconds or so for it to load, and when it did, he sat back from the computer with his hands over his face.

He'd been expecting it but hoping it didn't come at the same time. So this was what it felt like to officially end a decade-long relationship. Sally had what she wanted, which was freedom and Chloe, and he had nothing except the Hammersley.

Exhaling, Swain logged himself out and stumbled back to his cabin in a daze, where Charge found him staring at the ceiling twenty minutes later.

"You okay, mate?" the older engineer asked, reaching up to put a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Not particularly," Swain replied honestly, still not tearing his gaze away from the one patch on the ceiling. "The divorce is finalized."

"Oh." Charge sucked in a deep breath, unsure how to proceed. He'd considered his divorce a clean break, but Swain obviously still loved Sally and he couldn't relate to that. How did one go about sympathizing? 'I'm sorry' seemed feeble in comparison to the mess of emotions his friend was going through, but he said it, anyway.

**Three days later, Cooktown Port, Afternoon Watch: 14:17**

Kate watched as Charge, 2Dads and Dutchy prepared to leave the ship, resplendent in brightly coloured t-shirts, 2Dads looking especially rakish as he tended to on shore leave. "Where are you off to?" she asked, eyeing the three suspiciously as she noticed Swain was conspicuously absent from the merry gang.

"The pub," Charge replied frankly, jerking his thumb in the direction of the small port town.

"And you're not taking Swain along?" Only one of Kate's eyebrows was raised, which spelled trouble, and 2Dads swallowed hard.

"He wanted to stay here ma'am, something about inventorying med supplies," 2Dads chimed in, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head with the realization that they were about to cop some serious heat from their executive officer.

"Well, I think he needs to get out, and I wasn't going to suggest taking him to a strip club," Kate began in a dangerously low voice, about to tear into the three for letting their friend wallow in self-pity.

2Dads looked up hopefully. "Wait, you mean this town has a strip club?"

Kate didn't bother to dignify him with a response, but shot him a glare withering enough that he could feel his skin singing under its intensity. "You've got Cinderella leave, so what about chartering a boat and going out diving or fishing?"

Dutchy nodded, getting the sense that it wasn't a request, and the three turned and headed back down the gangplank. "Sure, ma'am."

Swain protested initially but didn't really have it in him to resist the suggestion of an afternoon off with his friends, and dressed in a tank top and shorts, allowed them to accompany him off the Hammersley.

The sun was brilliant on the water as Charge steered their rented boat offshore, the other three lounged in the back, enjoying the warm breeze.

Once they were out amongst the reefs, Charge cut the engine and anchored the boat, while Swain, Dutchy, and 2Dads got into their wetsuits and SCUBA gear, before flipping over the side and into the water.

Being underwater was always therapeutic for Swain, and as soon as the clear azure water closed over his head the sounds of the world above faded away, and he felt himself relax completely. The three descended slowly, exploring the brilliantly coloured coral and admiring the gorgeous tropical fish playing amidst the sunbeams trickling down from the surface.

They hadn't been down for more than half an hour when a flutter of movement in his periphery caught Dutchy's eye, and he turned to investigate, waving for the other three to follow him. He was expecting to find maybe something bigger, like a juvenile shark or perhaps another diver, but instead he recognized the basket of sea cucumbers and rudimentary diving equipment. Eyes flying wide under his mask, he turned and motioned for the other two to follow him, trying to keep his movements as casual as possible as he beat a hasty retreat back towards the boat.

Charge had barely gotten a line in the water off the bow when his friends surfaced at the stern and clambered aboard. He turned around with a frown, beer in hand. "Back so soon?"

"Cucumber divers. We need to go," Dutchy said, dropping his breathing apparatus on the deck and hoisting 2Dads into the back of the boat.

"Oh, really?" Charge's expression was thunderous as he reeled in his line reluctantly. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

2Dads ran a hand through his wet hair with a frown matching Charge's. "Yeah, that's probably why they're out here."

Wetsuit pulled down to his waist, Dutchy went straight for the wheelhouse and started the engine, feeling the boat throb to life beneath his bare feet, and began navigating them back to port.

Sensing the mood wasn't any better than before they'd left, 2Dads reached into the esky and pulled out a beer, tossing one to Swain and Charge before cracking his own. He was perfectly content to drink his beer while Dutchy took them home, but Swain was on his feet, stowing the diving equipment out of sight in the wheelhouse with a frenzied energy, before he rounded on 2Dads and began yanking at the zipper of his wetsuit.

"Hey! Easy, mate. I know you're single now, but I'm not interested," 2Dads protested, pulling his beer from his lips and staring at Swain bemusedly.

"Don't flatter yourself, 2Dads, I have standards," Swain retorted, still working at the zipper. "We can't look like we were diving, so you need to get changed right now."

Reluctantly, 2Dads handed his beer to Charge to hold onto, and began to wiggle out of his suit, before tugging his t-shirt over his head. Swain grabbed the dripping rubber and stuffed it in the chest in the wheelhouse with the rest of their gear, then shoved the whole thing away.

"I haven't been this glad to see dry land in a while," he remarked as Dutchy carefully guided the dive boat to the side of the jetty. Once it was secured, they jumped out and headed directly for the Hammersley, which wasn't docked far away. Descending the gangplank with hasty salutes to Thor, the group went directly for the bridge, where Kate was sitting in her chair, cup of coffee next to her. She looked up sharply at the sound of multiple pairs of flip-flops against the floor.

"Back so soon?"

"We found somebody diving for sea cukes off Swinger Reef," Dutchy explained, leaning against her chair. "Definitely not legally, ma'am."

"Did you go after them?" she asked, the late afternoon sleepies suddenly far away as all three shook their heads. She took a sip of her brew, wishing she had something a little stronger in there. Exhaling slowly, her blue eyes traced a path to the ceiling. Why couldn't her crew just enjoy some R&R for once without stumbling on something illegal? She thanked the gods that they had been smart and left, instead of trying to investigate unarmed. "Did they see you?"

"Probably, but we were all kitted up, so they wouldn't have seen much," Swain told her, reaching for a map from the nav conn and spreading it out in front of her. With his index finger, he indicated where they'd been and traced their path back to port.

Lips pursed, Kate nodded. "Okay, thanks for telling me. I'll let the CO know, but Swain, do you reckon you could follow up with the local police?"

"Of course, ma'am," he replied, pencilling in their steps and tucking the folded map into his pocket. "Dutchy, want to come?"

"Where's everybody else?" 2Dads asked, not quite ready to give up his remaining few hours of shore leave.

Kate rolled her eyes again. "Ryan, Bird, and some of the others went down to the local pub. You're free to join them, just make smart life decisions and be back here before midnight."

"Did they say which pub?" 2Dads pressed, licking his lips. He'd had one beer but after the afternoon's activities he was thirsty for more.

"It's a small town, 2Dads, there's probably just one."

"Right. Have a good evening, ma'am." He saluted her and swung himself down the bridge stairs, hitting the top with one hand as he went.

**Cooktown Port, First Watch: 23:40**

Darkness had fallen over the tiny port town, as most of its citizens were in bed at twenty to midnight on a Tuesday. The piers were nearly empty, except for a handful of Hammersley crew loading supplies onto the deck, Dutchy supervising with a notepad in hand.

He could hear the junior sailors returning from leave before he saw them, 2Dads' cheerful whistling echoing over the gentle lapping of the waves, and Bird and Ryan's footsteps syncopated as they play-danced along the docks to the beat of a song only in their heads. Dutchy shook his head with a smile, not about to begrudge them some fun. "Hurry up and come help," he called as they drew closer, laughing and chatting.

"Right away, Dutchy!" Ryan replied with a grin as they skipped along the concrete. He reached down for a box of produce and hoisted it to his chest, but before he could take another step the night lit up and his vision went white as a blast momentarily deafened him. He was hurled off his feet in a tangle of flailing limbs, and once the dust settled the night was eerily quiet in the aftermath.

The dock was strewn with pieces of cardboard, metal, and miscellaneous vegetables as he got unsteadily to his feet, head echoing with the explosion. "Dutchy? Bird? 2Dads?" His voice was weak as he turned slowly, scanning the area for his friends.

"Ryan? Over here!" 2Dads shouted, peeling himself off the ground and sitting up, feeling his head with narrowed eyes. He winced as his hand came back sticky and coppery from a gash below his eye.

"Help!" Bird's voice was faint and high-pitched with fear. "Down here!"

Dutchy had gotten up as well, staggering over to the clump of his younger sailors, looking around in panic as he tried to place Bird's voice. "Bird?"

Ryan leaned over the side of the jetty, clapping a hand to his mouth in horror as he realized she was clinging to one of the pillars, dangling dangerously close to the dark water. "Hang on, we're going to get you, Jess!"

"What the hell was that?" Kate's voice rang out over the dock as she and the watch crew raced from the bridge.

"An explosion of some sorts. That's not important right now. Bird's down there!" Dutchy explained, pointing over the side to where the whites of her eyes were shining in the dark.

"Charge, RO, in a RHIB for recovery," Kate ordered, and the two ran for the RHIB, lowering it into the water as fast as they safely could, and navigating it around the side of the pier.

Tide was low, leaving much of the foundations exposed, and Bird was had managed to haul herself onto one of the crossbeams, gripping one of the vertical ones as tightly as she could. It could have been worse, but everything was slimy with algae and her grip was beginning to slip. She almost sobbed with relief as the low thrum of the RHIB's motor approached, and Charge steered it as close as they could, while RO focused a spotlight so they could see her.

"Are you hurt?" Charge yelled, trying to assess any visible injuries, but it was hard to tell from his angle.

"I don't think so!" she called back, voice squeaking with panic as she looked down and realized she still had a few meters to drop into the ocean.

"Okay, we're going to need you to let go and swim to us, because we can't get any closer," he instructed, looking up at her with his heart in his throat. "Can you do that?"

"I think so," she said, voice wavering as she slowly released her grip on one of the vertical pillars and then the other. She teetered on the crossbeam for a second before she slid on the gelatinous coating of algae and plunged into the water with a shriek. She touched the bottom and kicked hard off it, surfacing with waving arms and spitting out a mouthful of liquid salt. Shaking her head to clear it, she struck out for the RHIB, and Charge hauled her aboard, immediately wrapping her in a blanket and a bear hug, his chin resting on top of her sleek dark hair, eyes closed with relief as she shivered against him.

Swain and Mike, along with the rest of the crew, had emerged onto the deck by the time the RHIB had been raised and were surveying the damage. Nobody was badly injured, mostly just shaken up with superficial cuts and bruises, but Swain had his hands full bandaging scrapes and checking for concussions.

Ryan flinched away as the light seared his retinas. "Ow, Swain, first I nearly get blown up and then you go and start sticking a penlight in my eyes?"

"Pupils a little sluggish," the medic noted, placing a gentle hand on Ryan's shoulder and switching the light off with the other hand. "You've got a bit of a concussion. Meet me in the wardroom after and we'll get you sorted." He patted his arm, and summarily dismissed, Ryan shuffled off in the direction of the wardroom, Bird following him. Once they were inside, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed, and she leaned into him. There weren't words, and they sat like that until footsteps began to fill the hallway again.

All thoughts of a good night's sleep had vapourized the second the explosives were detonated, and Mike gathered his senior crew in the bridge, handing out cups of coffee and tight smiles as they stood in front of him, dishevelled, confused, and sleepy.

"Does anybody have any idea why somebody set off an explosion near us tonight?" he began, scanning their faces.

"Do you think it had anything to do with that diver we saw earlier?" Dutchy was the first one to respond, running his fingers through his short blond hair and staring seriously at his captain.

"How would they have known you were Navy?" Mike asked, focus zeroing in on Dutchy. He supposed it was plausible. "Were you followed back?"

Swain shook his head and took a grateful sip of his brew. "I don't think so, sir; we would have noticed."

"Okay, what about getting followed back from the pub? 2Dads was with you on the boat, and he went out with the rest of the crew after," Kate chimed in from where she was leaning against the nav conn. "He's not exactly inconspicuous."

Mike had to give her that. "That's certainly possible. Clearly, we aren't sailing at first light anymore, so Swain, I'd like you to liaise with the local police force so we can figure out how exactly this happened. I'll be in my cabin briefing NAVCOM on the situation. X, I'd like you to assess the damage and do inventory of what made it onto the ship beforehand and what didn't. Charlie, you can help. Dismissed."

"Uh, sir? What about us?" Dutchy asked, one hand raising from where he'd crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

"You and Charge can get some rest after all this excitement," Mike replied, eyeing the two of them wilting in their chairs over his mug, Dutchy's lids drooping and face superficially scratched.

"Sir," Charge protested, but Mike raised a palm and an eyebrow and they both snapped their mouths shut.

"That's an order."

* * *

**a/n: **thanks everybody for reading, especially CoastWatchGirl, brujayrebelde, and TessaTessa for their lovely reviews! sorry about the delay: I started classes last week and Hurricane Dorian knocked out my power for the entire weekend. as always, please do drop me a review and let me know that you think!


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